Praise for Rowena Cory Daniells
“A fast moving, gripping fantasy.”
Fantasy Book Critic on The King’s Bastard
“Rowena Cory Daniells has a splendidly devious way with plotting.”
SFX
“It’s a story of kings and queens, beasts and warriors, magic and religion. If you like any of the aformentioned things, then you’ll probably join me in loving this book.”
Den of Geek on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin
“The King’s Bastard is a cracking read and the pace never lets up.”
Geek Syndicate
“Royal intrigue, court politics and outlawed magic make for an exciting adventure.”
Gail Z. Martin, author of The Chronicles of The Necromancer, on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin
“Pacy and full of action and intrigue.”
Trudi Canavan, author of The Black Magician trilogy, on The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin
“The King’s Bastard is a fabulous, rollicking, High Fantasy adventure that will keep you up at night, desperate to find out what happens next.”
Jennifer Fallon, author of The Demon Child trilogy
Also by Rowena Cory Daniells
The Outcast Chronicles
Besieged
Exile
Sanctuary
The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin
The King’s Bastard
The Uncrowned King
The Usurper
The King’s Man (ebook)
King Breaker
Rowena Cory Daniells
KING BREAKER
The Stunning Conclusion to
The Chronicles of King Rolen’s Kin
First published 2013 by Solaris
an imprint of Rebellion Publishing Ltd,
Riverside House, Osney Mead,
Oxford, OX2 0ES, UK
www.solarisbooks.com
ISBN: (epub) 978-1-84997-642-8
ISBN: (mobi) 978-1-84997-643-5
Copyright © Rowena Cory Daniells 2013
Cover Art by Clint Langley
Maps by Rowena Cory Daniells and Luke Preece
The right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of he copyright owners.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
BYREN CLIMBED THE steps to the ship’s reardeck.
‘Just as well you shaved.’ Orrade greeted him with a grin. ‘You were beginning to look like an Utland raider.’
Byren rubbed his jaw. For the first three days of the voyage home, he’d been feverish, and Orrade hadn’t left his side. Now, with the morning sun on his face, he felt more like himself, although his knees were still a bit weak. ‘Hate being sick. Hate feeling helpless.’
‘You’d been beaten and starved, and were awaiting execution, yet you still found the strength to swing a sword when we freed you. You’re lucky you had nothing worse than a fever.’ Orrade glanced to the helmsman, then leant closer. ‘You might have recovered sooner, if you’d had an ulfr pack for company.’
Byren shook his head. Smarter and bigger than ordinary wolves, ulfrs were god-touched Affinity beasts. His father had always hated Affinity, and Byren had grown up seeing those afflicted with Affinity sent to the abbeys, or banished. When his youngest brother, Fyn, had been sent to Halcyon Abbey, it had broken his mother’s heart. Since King Rolen’s death, Byren had learnt that Affinity was a tool and, like any tool, could be a weapon in the wrong hands. He grimaced. ‘I don’t have Affinity.’
‘No, but you have something. Those ulfrs—’
‘First time it happened,’ Byren found himself trying to explain, ‘I was hiding in an Affinity seep.’ Normally he would have avoided the hollow, where untamed power rose from the earth’s heart, but he’d been injured and desperate to escape the Merofynian invaders. ‘I was hoping the power would deter my pursuers. Instead it attracted the ulfr pack. I thought I was dead for sure. But they’d come to bathe in the wild power. Like horses taking a dust bath.’ He shivered.
‘They should have ripped your throat out.’
‘I know, but I was wrapped in my ulfr fur and the Affinity seemed to befuddle their senses. Then one of the females whelped a cub right next to me and...’ He shrugged. Somehow, he’d formed a bond with the pack.
‘I’ll admit that first time was pure luck.’ Orrade held his eyes. ‘But the second time you were also injured. Both scars looked days old overnight.’
Byren shook his head. If he wanted to reclaim his father’s throne, there could be no taint attached to his name; he had enough problems without adding to them. When the Merofynians attacked Rolencia, his cousin, Cobalt, had colluded with Palatyne, handing Byren over to be executed. But Byren had killed Palatyne and claimed the young Merofynian queen for his betrothed, and now he was racing home to Rolencia, before the news could reach Cobalt.
‘You need strength to lead an army.’ Orrade sent Byren a teasing look. ‘Perhaps we should’ve moored off a wyvern eyrie, or is it only land-based Affinity beasts that—’
‘No one in their right mind goes near saltwater wyverns.’ Or so he’d been told, yet his betrothed had a wyvern for a pet. Byren frowned. Much of what he’d been taught about Affinity had been wrong.
‘Look, there’s no point hiding from it. You have an affinity for Affinity.’ Orrade’s mouth lifted in a wry grin.
Byren felt an answering smile tug at his lips. ‘You can talk. It took you ages to admit—’
Before he could broach the subject of Orrade’s visions, the cabin boy interrupted. ‘Cap’n Talltrees invites you to his table for dinner, King Byren.’
Byren met Orrade’s eyes. As the younger twin, Byren had been spared the attentions of men eager to curry favour with the king’s heir, but now that Lence was dead... He shut down the thought. This was not the time to mourn his twin.
Dropping into a crouch, Byren faced the little cabin boy. To think, Fyn had been this small when their father sent him away. Byren’s large hand settled on the six-year-old’s shoulder. ‘Just call me kingsheir for now. I won’t be the king until I sit on my father’s throne and Cobalt the Usurper is dead.’
‘Does that mean you won’t dine at the captain’s table?’
Byren ruffled the lad’s hair and came to his feet. ‘I’d be honoured to dine with him.’
Beaming, the cabin boy ran back towards the steps to middeck. A large wyvern swooped down, wing tips brushing the sails. It caught the lad by the shoulder.
Even before the boy screamed, Byren was running. He leapt onto the wyvern’s back, his hunting knife drawn, and drove it down to the deck. The boy tumbled free, rolled across the planks and lay unmoving.
The wyvern screeched and writhed in fury. Byren knew as soon as the beast rolled onto its back, it would bring its powerful lower legs up and slit his belly wide open. In desperation, he drove his knife into the side of the wyvern’s neck and tore out the front of its throat.
The beast gurgled and thrashed; aware the death throes could just as easily kill him, Byren threw himself aside. Orrade braved the flashing claws to drag him to safety.
‘Where’s the boy? Is he—’
‘Safe. The boatswain’s got him. Trust you to tackle a full-grown wyvern with nothing but a hunting knife.’
‘Didn’t think.’ If he’d ha
d time to think, he would never have tried it.
Orrade helped him to his feet. Byren’s legs seemed to belong to someone else. The big beast lay dead, beautiful scales glinting in the sun like jewels.
Sailors poured up from below decks, calling to each other in amazement and congratulating Byren. The boatswain came over with the cabin boy in his arms and tried to thank him, but Byren couldn’t hear for the rushing of blood in his ears. Any moment now, he’d pass out and make a fool of himself. ‘Get me to the cabin, before I puke.’
Orrade didn’t hesitate, leading him through the sailors gathered around the wyvern now discussing their good luck. The beast’s skin was worth a small fortune. Someone would have to settle the wyvern’s Affinity, but that wasn’t Byren’s problem.
As his sailors rejoiced, the merchant captain sent Byren a cryptic look that he couldn’t interpret. Relief had turned into a pounding headache. Sparks floated in his vision. It was all he could do to negotiate the steps to middeck.
‘You’re feverish again,’ Orrade said as they entered the passage to the cabins.
Byren felt his knees give way and darkness closed in.
When his vision cleared, he found himself stretched out on his bedroll by the cabin’s brazier. A shiver took him. Orrade pulled the blanket more closely around him.
‘You’re too good for me, Orrie. I don’t deserve—’
‘Yes, I know. You only ever had eyes for my sister.’
Once.
But when the fever left him, Byren had not thought of Elina, his dead first love, or Isolt, the prim betrothed he’d inherited when his older twin died. He’d thought of Florin, the mountain girl who’d helped him escape the Merofynians. She’d defied him and irritated him, yet she’d somehow slipped under his guard. But, as far as Florin was concerned, he was her king, nothing more.
And he could never be anything more. Byren knew his duty—marry Isolt to unite Merofynia and Rolencia, and put an end to the warring. Frustration churned in him. He’d never wanted to be king. Certainly, he had never wanted the throne at the price of his father’s and twin’s lives...
Orrade’s cool hand settled on his forehead, soothing away his frown and easing his racing mind. ‘Sleep.’
Byren nodded. Lence and his parents might be dead but his brother and sister were safe. Fyn was in Merofynia protecting Queen Isolt until Byren could claim her, and Piro was sailing for Ostron Isle under Mage Tsulamyth’s protection.
Exhausted, Byren let his breath out in a long sigh and felt sleep take him.
FLORIN PAUSED TO gaze up at the Rolencian banner strung over the castle gate. The deep red foenix, picked out in gold, gleamed in the morning sun, bright against the banner’s black background. She was surprised Cobalt hadn’t replaced it with his own banner. But then, he didn’t want to remind people that he was a usurper. He wanted to reinforce his claim to the throne, even if this meant reminding them his father had been King Byren the Fourth’s bastard.
As she strode up the steep switch-back road, her heart missed a beat. She told herself she had nothing to lose. As far as her father and brother knew, she’d been killed in the aftermath of battle.
If things went to plan, she would not leave alive.
But to implement her plan, Florin had to be employed by the castle-keep, and she had no illusions. She was taller than most men and not even her father, fond as he was, had ever called her pretty. Somehow she had to get inside the castle and get close to Cobalt. In an ideal world, she would have been a renowned Ostronite assassin; but she was simply a mountain girl with a grudge. That would have to be enough to get her past the guards, to cut Cobalt’s throat.
Only then would Byren be avenged.
She didn’t know how it had all gone so horribly wrong in the Battle of Narrowneck, only that Byren had saved her life and sent her to safety, before going in search of Orrade.
That very night she’d returned looking for Byren, but she was too late. By the time she’d heard of his capture and reached the castle, Cobalt had packed him off to port. By the time she’d reached the docks, Byren was on a ship bound for Merofynia, where he was to be executed. She hadn’t been able to afford a berth—not when all the ships were packed with Merofynian lords heading home with their war booty, not when she had no sailing skills or beauty to barter.
So here she was, back in Rolenhold, trying to win a castle servant’s position so she could have her revenge on Cobalt.
But revenge wouldn’t bring Byren back.
Her stomach cramped with pain. She’d had no idea love could hurt this much. Hadn’t even known she’d loved Byren, until she’d lost him.
Focus! If there was one thing mountain people were good at, it was holding a grudge. Illien, Lord of Cobalt, had sent Byren to his death. This meant he had to die.
She knew as soon as she killed Cobalt, his honour guard would kill her. So be it.
After going through the long gate tunnel, she came out into daylight. The cold made her shiver. It was not long until summer’s cusp, but this year Sylion, cruel god of winter, hadn’t released his hold on the twin isles. The farmers said a late summer meant a poor harvest and a lean winter to follow.
It was hiring day. There was no shortage of pretty young things and eager lads, desperate to provide for their families. More than ever, after the Merofynians had stripped Rolencia of its wealth.
Florin was surprised Cobalt hadn’t crowned himself king yet. If she had her way, he would never get the chance. But first she had to be hired, and that did not look hopeful. If she’d been slight and pretty like the two girls behind her...
Instead, she squared her shoulders and hoped she appeared reliable. The castle-keep walked along the line, her iron-grey hair pulled back in a severe bun, her black eyes sharp despite her age. Rumour had it she’d served Cobalt since he was a lad. Rumour had it she was as unflinchingly loyal as she was hard to please.
The castle-keep walked right past and Florin felt a wave of relief. Her vision faded, then returned on a surge of self-contempt.
She could hear the castle-keep, pausing to speak with likely looking lads and lasses in the line behind her.
‘What can you do?’
‘I was a scullery maid and my sister was a chambermaid. We worked at the Sleeping Sylion,’ a girl said. Although Florin was the daughter of a tradepost keeper, she couldn’t place the inn.
Florin cast a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, the castle-keep had paused to speak with the two pretty girls. The younger of the two reminded Florin of Byren’s sister, Piro. Everyone believed Piro dead but, according to the family’s old nurse, Piro had been taken to Merofynia disguised as a slave. Byren had meant to save her.
He’d meant to do so many things. Florin’s eyes burned and her chest ached. She hardened her heart and thought of revenge.
‘A couple of pretty lasses like you will do well as long as you don’t think being pretty means you don’t have to pull your weight,’ the castle-keep told them. Clearly charm would not move her. Just as well, Florin was no flatterer. ‘Mark my words, keep your legs closed. I won’t have my serving maids sent home big with child or running off with the first rich man who gives her a bauble!’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Don’t my lady me. I was born on a farm and worked my way up to castle-keep. Everything I have, I worked for.’
‘Yes, m...’ The first girl floundered.
‘Just go.’ The castle-keep waved them off and the two girls hurried past Florin, all long black hair, swaying hips and sweet curves.
‘What can you do?’ the castle-keep asked the next lad.
‘Chop wood,’ a youth answered, voice not yet broken. ‘Repair fences—’
‘Can you mend saddles?’
‘I could learn.’
‘Good. You can report to the stable-master. He’s been complaining all the men are cack-handed, thanks to the Merofynians.’
It was true. When the reward for news of Byren hadn’t produced results, the Mero
fynians had searched the countryside. If a man didn’t provide useful information, they’d chopped off his right hand—hard to join Byren’s rebellion and wield a weapon without it.
A tall skinny lad, all awkward knees and elbows, hurried past Florin, heading for the next courtyard.
‘That’s enough. Be off with you.’ The castle-keep dismissed the rest of the hopefuls.
Desperate, Florin spoke up. ‘Baubles can’t buy me.’
The castle-keep had to lift her chin to hold Florin’s gaze. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. ‘Go on?’
‘I need work. My home burned down.’ It was true enough. Everything on Narrowneck had burned the day the Merofynian god’s breath blew across Byren’s warriors. The very air had burned. They’d only escaped by jumping off the cliff into Lake Sapphire. Unable to swim, Florin still had nightmares.
The castle-keep lifted her chin to hold Florin’s eyes. ‘Give me one good reason why I should take you on.’
‘I know my figures. I can do sums and read—’
‘Read? A rough mountain girl like you?’
‘I can read a little,’ Florin conceded. ‘But I tell you this, I can work harder than any man!’
‘Hmph. Something to prove...’ She studied Florin. ‘Why are you dressed like a man?’
‘I’ve always worn breeches. Shoulda been born a boy.’
Florin held her breath as the castle-keep considered her. The woman still had all her teeth, but Florin guessed she’d never been pretty. Perhaps it was this that decided her.
‘Your name, girl?’
‘Leif.’ Florin had only met Cobalt once and doubted if he would remember her face, let alone her name, but it was best to be sure.
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